32 Hours of Travel, Ramadan and White Rice

It's hard to believe that one year ago I embarked on what I thought would be the journey of a lifetime... to rural Wisconsin. By now you all know that what was thought to be an incredible step forward turned out disastrous. With every mistake though, comes a lesson. So this last 12 months have been just that; lesson after lesson. Exactly one year after leaving California to drive cross country with my Dad I once again left Napa, but this time bound for Indonesia.

In early June, 2010 I was informed that I had received a Fellowship to teach abroad through the State Department and Georgetown University. I was asked to choose the areas of the world that I would agree to go. First on the list was anywhere in the Western Hemisphere. I originally wanted to live in a Spanish speaking country in hopes to continue my pursuit of the Spanish language. Georgetown however, had another plan. The acceptance email confirmed that I was being sent to Semarang, Indonesia to teach English at Universitas Diponegoro, a highly respected University on the island of Java. Fantastic. Let's do this.

After a 4 day orientation in Washington DC in early August where I met many of the other 178 educators from all over the nation who are traveling to 83 different countries, I returned home for a week to prepare for what I am certain will be The Journey of a Lifetime. There are 13 of us here in Indonesia, each in a different city. Flight 1 took me from San Francisco to Tokyo. Eleven hours of flying proved easy, as I sat with one of the other Fellows who has already lived in Indonesia for 10 months. In Tokyo we met the other Fellows and together boarded a plane to Singapore. Seven hours in the air allowed me time to reflect... and sleep. A six hour layover in the Singapore airport then a one and a half hour flight landed us in the capital of Indonesia and began this next adventure.

Once we cleared customs and were greeted by the amazing staff at the U.S. Embassy who worked countless hours before our arrival, we arrived to our hotel in Jakarta around 12pm. Jet lagged and absolutely exhausted, we agreed that sleep was not an option. A group of us decided to take a walk around the capital city in order to see a few of the sights. We walked to the National Monument, past a Catholic church, and around a big Mosque. We dodged cars, motorcycles and people. We stopped for photographs, wiped gallons of sweat and tried our best to take in as much as possible. The intriguing thing about our arrival to Indonesia is that it occurred in the middle of Ramadan. This particular afternoon we passed the Mosque during afternoon prayer. The sounds of commitment and faith radiated from the speakers that lined the street. I've never heard prayer in such a way and it was a beautiful, monotonous melody of words that created almost a song. It was chilling, to say the least. As my Mom will attest, I have struggled with religion over the years. To observe this level of belief was a powerful moment.

Day 2 in Jakarta (don't worry, I won't recount day-by-day) began with an Intercultural Relations workshop with the amazing Ibu Irid Agoes. She spoke of the Indonesian culture and what to expect in both daily life and the professional atmosphere. We learned certain etiquette and things that should be avoided at all costs. We also discussed religion and its role in the country. She explained that Indonesia is an indirect society, yet they yearn to communicate. I took a lot from this two hour session, especially that, "Time + Tragedy = Comedy". Well said, Ibu Irid. Well said. Ibu Irid hosted our group that evening at her home for Buka Puasa. Literally translated, this means opening the feast. This occurs in the evening after sundown during Ramadan and after the evening prayer. It is the meal where Muslims are able to "break the fast". Ibu Irid and her husband, along with at least 10 other friends and family members welcomed us, explained a little about Ramadan, prayed in front of us, then uncovered the table of food (You start with the sweets first, Angie. I immediately thought of you! It felt just like home.). We were told that we were allowed to take pictures during prayer, but I felt uncomfortable doing so. It was an incredible opportunity to observe such a practice. The women are all seated behind the men and covered in all white. Everyone followed the man of the house, who led a series of prayers, which included chanting and movement. This commitment to and belief in God took my breath away.

The next few days consisted of meetings with representatives from the U.S. State Department who are all stationed here in Indonesia for one reason or another. The great thing about this year is that I am here legally. The U.S. Embassy knows who I am and what I am doing, as well of how to contact me (feel better, Mom and Dad?). I won't bore you with all of the information that we were provided but I will leave you with one thing that really stuck. We, as English Language Fellows, are serving as Ambassadors of the United States. This is our opportunity to humanize America to another country without the help of Hollywood. In turn, this is our chance to see a country in need completely un-edited.

I left Jakarta Wednesday with my Indonesian counterpart, Pak Ariya, another teacher at the University where I will work. We arrived in Semarang later that evening. Upon arrival to my house, I quickly realized that my new home was not yet move-in ready. In other words, it was filthy dirty, crawling with cockroaches and the locks were broken. They immediately took me to a hotel and told me not to worry (a common explanation I have already found) and that the house would be ready by Friday (insert a brief panic attack here). Thursday morning I went to my University for the first time. It's a small campus, relatively speaking. There is one office for the entire English Department and we are crammed in like sardines. There is no running water in the bathroom. The air conditioner is running, but we are all sweating as if it isn't. Oh my... Classes don't officially start until September 20, so I have some time to acclimate... I hope.

You can imagine how comical it is trying to get around a city where you do not speak the language. There are a lot of hand gestures and uncomfortable laughs. I've never before been so outside of my element. I have had to trust my instincts and intuitions more in the last few days than perhaps ever. I have managed to take a number of taxis from here to there. In my short days here I have learned that you can buy goats on the corner of the street. Families of four travel on one motorcycle. The adults wear helmets in the front and the back, and the children are squished in the middle. My definition of clean is clearly not that of an Indonesian. White rice is served with every meal, no matter what you order. High-speed Internet is in fact not-so-high-speed. In fact, it may take minutes for a page to load. Cell phone service is silly. You iPhone users think you lose calls frequently? Move to Indo. Semarang is a community of malls. It seems there is a mall on every corner, equipped with either a McDonalds, Pizza Hut or KFC. If you're lucky you may find a mall with all three, as well as a Dunkin Donuts. God help me.

What I have also learned though, is that this culture and community are warm and welcoming. Taxi drivers are patient and willing. They appreciate the fact that all I can say is hello and thank you. Because at least I'm trying. My nerves and my patience will be tested time and time again this year. I'll cry, I'll get angry, I'll miss home and my family and friends. But this is my opportunity to discover new things about myself. It's an opportunity to stretch my limits and test my strength. Most importantly, this is my chance to put to rest and say goodbye to the people and places who have not appreciated my worth. What they have lost is for the people and culture of Indonesia to gain.

I am off for now, to the shower, in order to wash the dirt off that I acquired from the backseat of my first, Southeast Asian motorbike ride (yes, I wore a helmet and yes, it was the scariest ride of my life).

Be well. Smile lots. And love unconditionally.

Noreen